


Staying In

by seatbeltdrivein



Series: Girl Talk-verse [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-19
Updated: 2011-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-15 18:54:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seatbeltdrivein/pseuds/seatbeltdrivein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Birthday fic for flyingichthyo. Sequel to "A Bit of She Said-She Said"] "I am a magnet for errors! I disrupt the Floo network's perfect harmony!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Staying In

Tonks had walked around the entire day with one button on her blouse undone—the one, of course, sitting between her breasts. Harry gleefully told her so as they punched out their timecards for the day, going so far as to poke her tits like he owned them.

"You," she said darkly, fumbling with the button, "are _such_ an arse."

"It builds character," Harry said wisely, and Tonks didn't know whether he was referring to himself or her brief brush with indecent exposure.

"I'm going home," she announced, shoving her card back in the file. The thing went in sideways, crushing a bit on the ends, and not for the first time, Tonks wondered why the DMLE had such an archaic timekeeping method.

Harry waved her away. "Have at it. I'm just going to send the last write-ups on the Hull case down to the main office. Don't forget the meeting tomorrow."

"I'm not the one that needs reminding, though, am I, Potter?" Tonks grinned, one arm in her coat. Harry gave her a rude hand gesture and left the room, narrowly avoiding running straight into some poor undersecretary in the hall.

With one last look at the clock to ensure she was on time, Tonks went in the opposite direction. If she was lucky, the interdepartmental Floo station wouldn't be packed with people trying to get off work early.

In her rush, she nearly ran flat into a man standing in the center of the hall. Stumbling to halt, she—ran into him anyway, sending him careening forward into the slight witch standing in front of _him_.

Stuttering out her apologies, Tonks made to step around him, but the man tapped her shoulder. "Floo?" he asked, looking amused.

"Yes," Tonks said, wary.

"Er, this would be the end of the queue."

Tonks stared. Tonks looked around the man and caught sight of a queue of twenty reaching out of the Floo station.

Tonks knew with absolute certainty that she was going to be late.

*

An hour later, seven was closing in. Tonks finally reached the front of line, agitated and bristling. It was _always_ a Floo error! Every damn time she couldn't where she needed to be, it was because of the Floo station, or the network in general!

"We should all be required to ride brooms to work," she grumbled. "This is _ridiculous._ "

"Next!"

Finally, it was _finally_ her turn! Tonks went straight for the open Floo, but not before getting a good look at the end of the queue. Harry was nowhere in sight.

Knowing him, he _had_ ridden a broom to work.

A bit of power in hand, she announced her destination and closed her eyes against the bright bursting of green flames, feeling like the wind had been sucked out of her when she just as suddenly was pushed from the fireplace and into her own sitting room.

Hermione was sitting on the couch, ankle crossed primly, a book in hand. "Finally managed to get home, have you?"

"A Floo error," Tonks said, and Hermione rolled her eyes, scoffing.

"It's always a Floo error."

"That's because," Tonks persisted, "it always _is_! I am a magnet for errors! I disrupt the Floo network's perfect harmony—"

Hermione set the book down and stood, a single fluid motion. "Dinner's ready," she said, and Tonks could see the barely repressed humor in her eyes. "It might be a bit cold."

"I'm only an hour late," Tonks sulked. Hermione just reached up and patted her cheek.

"It's fine."

Dinner looked something fancy and gourmet, the sort of stuff her mother would serve at a dinner party. Tonks sat down, stared at her plate, and thought, _is that a snail? My god, that_ is _a snail!_ But Hermione was sitting across from her, chin resting on steepled fingers. She looked quietly content, her hair loose and her face clean of makeup. She'd likely been at it all day. Hermione—wasn't the best cook in the world.

Tonks managed to keep a smile on her face as she swallowed the first bite. "You went all out."

"I don't get to have a first anniversary every day," Hermione pointed out.

"No, and good thing. That would sort of ruin the point."

"Oh, you know what I mean!" Hermione plucked a roll from the basket in the center of the table, nibbling it half-heartedly. She was beginning to look tense, the lines deepening between her eyes, her lips tugging down. Tonks would have liked to say that it was just a day, that she was happy so long as they were just _together_ , but Hermione had, at some point without Tonks' knowing, gotten it in her head to plan the perfect night.

Another bit of forced enthusiasm, another bite of food. Tonks was about ninety-nine percent sure she was smiling, but Hermione was flat out frowning.

"You don't like it," she said.

"No, no" Tonks said. "Really, it's—"

"You don't have to lie to me," Hermione said dryly, dropping the roll onto her own plate. "Honestly, I'm capable of failing."

"Are you really?" Tonks said before she could stop herself. "Oh, hell, I didn't mean—"

But Hermione let out a laugh. "Yes, you did!" She was smiling, and Tonks finally relaxed. "Don't worry about it," she continued, standing. She reached over and grabbed Tonks' plate, carrying it over to the counter. "We could go out, or we could order a takeaway?"

She stood at the sneak, leaning over just so as she arranged the dishes in the strainer, an odd Muggle-compulsion to clean by hand the only thing that kept the sink full so regularly. Her jeans were old, well worn; and when she bent over, the material pulled taut around her hips.

Well, Tonks thought, and stood. Hermione was still nattering on about something, dinner plans or possibly talking Harry into getting them some exclusive restaurant reservations. When Tonks' arms went around her waist and her lips brushed her neck, Hermione's mouth snapped shut.

"Or," Tonks began, "we could stay _in_."

"In?" Hermione sounded breathless. "In sounds lovely."

"Absolutely," Tonks agreed, loosening her grip enough for Hermione to spin around, her back to the kitchen counter. The jumper Hermione wore was oversized, and the fabric drooped off her shoulder, tugged down and caught between her back and the counter, giving Tonks a rather appreciable view of black lace. She stopped, looked at Hermione's face which was blossoming red, and playfully tugged at the hem of her jumper.

"Well aren't you all dressed up," she said, leering. Hermione rolled her eyes and swatted Tonks on the hip.

"If you'll believe it," Hermione said, embarrassment clinging to her words, "Ron got it for me."

"Ron?"

"He said he thought you'd appreciate it," Hermione said tersely.

Tonks had to think on that for a moment, but she finally settled on, "I'll have to thank him properly tomorrow. Mind getting this off," she pulled again at the sweater. "A closer look is in order. I have to know if the quality is high enough for me."

Hermione laughed again, tugging the bottom of the sweater up and over her head. Tonks stepped back and placed her hands on either side of the counter. "It's a teddy," Tonks said. She knew was probably blinking rapidly and looking more thrilled than she probably should, but Hermione looked—well.

"You like it?" Hermione asked, unsure. "I mean, I don't really—normally—"

"I like it," Tonks promised, then added with a grin: "Better than eating snails, anyway!"

"Keep that up, and the sweater goes back on," Hermione said darkly.

"Yes, ma'am." Tonks was quick to agree. "But keep it on—and get the trousers off. I promise I'll make it worth your while."

"Will you, now?" Hermione asked, hands already at her zip. Tonks brushed them aside, drawing them down and sinking to her knees as she did.

"Most definitely," Tonks promised.


End file.
